Star Fox: A Threat Most Fowl
by 1337guitarist
Summary: When a totally expected and canon threat once again endangers the Lylat System, Fox and his team must once again fight to save their home planet... AGAIN... for the ten thousandth time. Are they ready to get their freak on?
1. Chapter 1: Preparations of Doom

**Star Fox: A Threat Most Fowl**

By OrangeKat and Ca'diem

- - -

**Chapter 1: Preparations of Doom **

The only sound that could be heard in Princeton C. Gallus' office was the slow breathing of Princeton C. Gallus himself. He was the head honcho, the big cheese, the head honcho, that one guy who sits down the hall in the corner office and you hate him and throw donuts at him because he's better than you and gets paid more and has all the women. Yeah, that guy.

There he sat in his dim office, the corner office, eating a donut, and admiring himself in a hand-held mirror. The masculine rooster's face that stared back at him, those fiery yellow eyes, the lustrous black feathers, and his silky comb and waddles... it was enough to make his own heart race.

He stared at his waddles, knowing fully that, in the eyes of female poultry, they were lustful objects of raw desire. He smiled softly to himself. He knew he was sexy. Shaking his head gently from side to side, he watched as his waddles waddled back and forth, to and fro.

"That's right, waddle, you sexy waddles. Everybody stares when my waddles go waddling down the hall..."

He was abruptly cut off from his crooning as the door to his office burst open and two female felines ran in, out of breath, their ample chests heaving. Princeton was so startled by their entrance that he emitted an earsplitting squawk and dropped the mirror in shock. One of the felines, a pretty young thing with shiny pink fur, spoke up first.

"Like, we've got the latest news on the invasion," she gasped, still trying to catch her breath.

"Very good," Princeton said, his voice thick with intrigue. "And what would that be, Snowball?"

"Well, like, the first batch of troops like, are now like, fully trained. We have like, ten thousand pilots, like, ready for action." she replied confidently.

"It wasn't ten thousand strong," the other feline, who was a beautiful shade of purple with golden eyes that bewitched you, angrily interjected, "it was twenty thousand, you dumb pussy."

"Hey, Midnight, like, at least I brush my fur every day," Snowball snapped angrily back with an arrogant sneer.

"Oh, no you di'nt!" Midnight shouted, then immediately backhanded Snowball in the face with all her womanly might. Snowball recoiled and put a hand to her nose. It was bleeding. Her eyes came up, and fixed Midnight with demonic hatred that only women can provide.

"You're like, so dead!" she screamed, and lunged at midnight, knocking her to the ground. The two felines struggled like crazed weasels, desperately trying to claw each other's eyes out of their sockets to reach inside each others' heads and pull out their brains via the optic nerve, howling and spitting all the while. At this sight, Princeton frantically stood up, knocking his chair over.

"Oh dear, catfight!" he exclaimed, rushing over to attempt to break up the fight without getting his own face ripped off. At this point, Snowball was astraddle Midnight, trying to bludgeon the purple feline with a stapler she picked up off the ground. Princeton stepped in at the exact wrong moment, for as he knelt down to get between the fighting felines, Snowball swung the stapler wildly, making contact with the side of Princeton's head.

The scream that issued from Princeton was of high enough caliber to wake the dead. Luckily, it startled the frolicking felines from fighting (hmm that's good alliteration), and they both rushed to the side of the wounded rooster.

"Oh my goodness, are you all right?" Midnight asked, her eyes wide with fear.

"I'm like, so sorry," Snowball insisted tenderly, stroking his comb comfortingly.

"I'm _fine_," Princeton growled irritably. "Now I'm going to attempt to pull out this staple and hope the blood loss doesn't kill me."

The two felines watched with intense concern as Princeton gingerly placed two wing feathers on the staple imbedded in his head. With a grimace and a grunt, he pulled it out, and cast it to the ground.

"Now," he said, his voice filled with the pain of removing a staple that was imbedded in his skull. "Let's keep the fighting at a bare minimum, shall we?"

"S' cool," Midnight said smoothly.

"She like, started it," Snowball grumbled softly.

"That's more like it," Princeton said, rising to his feet. The two female felines did the same. "Now, Snowball, you say that we have ten thousand pilots ready?"

"Twenty," Midnight corrected.

"_Whatever_," Princeton snarled. "I'm tired of waiting. The planet of Venom is tired of waiting. I want results now! You two, alert our general. Tell them that my fleet is ready to invade Corneria and destroy the Star Fox team."

"Aight, yo," Midnight said, and the two foxy felines started for the door. Suddenly, Snowball turned around and spoke.

"Hey Prince, like, why do you hate Star Fox so much?" she queried. "I've always been, like, curious. What did they, like, do to you?"

Princeton frowned, his eyes narrowed, and his waddles contracted in anger. He was recalling events long past. He stared at Snowball for a few moments, then answered her, his voice filled with resentment.

"Why indeed, Snowball? It was because of events that passed so long ago..."

- - -

Authors' Note: And that is chapter one, in all its hidden glory. What did you think of it? We need your opinions! So, like, review, yo!


	2. Chapter 2: Saviors of Lylat

**Star Fox: A Threat Most Fowl**

Authors' Note: Ca'diem and I are both pleased to see how well the first chapter went down with y'all! We proudly present number two, and we hope you find it as equally satisfying.

- - -

**Chapter 2: The Saviors of Lylat**

"Because of events that passed long ago?" Midnight repeated Princeton's response with a puzzled look. "You've held a grudge for this long? Surely what they did couldn't have been _that _bad."

Princeton turned to face her, now wearing a solemn expression on his fowl-like face. His eyes stared deeply into hers, so deeply that they seemed to penetrate deeply into the depths of her soul, deeply.

"Not that bad? My dear, you have no idea..."

- - -

_(Start of the flashback that ties in with the main plot, explaining in explicit detail why Princeton hates the Star Fox team so)._

Fifteen years ago, when Princeton was an immature fowl of twelve years, he had gone to Corneria Junior High, along with the members that would be the Star Fox team: Slippy Toad, Fox McCloud, and Falco Lombardi.

Falco... Princeton hated that bird. He strutted around with his cocky head high in the air. Falco had everything that Princeton wanted for himself; a strong, athletic body that the chicks fawned over, a flawless beak that was just the right size, as well as feathers with a slick, shiny sheen. Falco had all these things and what's more, the smug little bastard knew it. He was at the top of the pecking order, having pecked Princeton on the face many times to prove his authority.

Normally, Prince wouldn't have let Falco's arrogance bother him, but at this point in his life, his self-esteem was suffering greatly. It was suffering because of an event that had not come to pass yet, an event that affects all young male poultry his same age.

His waddles hadn't descended yet.

Yes, the flaps of skin that would become his waddles were still tightly fastened up underneath his beak, hidden from the adoring eyes of gorgeous females. Because he lacked the anatomy that every young rooster had gained by his age, he isolated himself from the rest of the crowd, having been made an object of derisive laughter.

He was so unlike Fox McCloud and his friends. They were the popular ones. They had all the friends, they treated Princeton like a mound of festering garbage every chance they got, and the teachers let them do so.

Fox, Slippy, and Falco formed a punk rock band that was ironically named "The Saviors of Lylat." Slippy banged the drums, Falco BS-ed his way through the bass guitar, and Fox butchered the electric guitar and sang lead vocals. Even though Princeton knew they sucked when it came to playing music, the students loved them just because the idea of a punk rock band entertaining them was so darn cool. It just wasn't fair.

However, In the midst of these circumstances, it wasn't as though Princeton didn't have friends. He made friends with the other loners in the school: Wolf O'Donnell, Pigma Dengar, and Leon Powalski. They were the kids that drew dragons, scantly-clad amazons, and knights dueling mythical beasts. They were the kids that played with anime-style trading cards and smelled like an armpit. They were the kids who were the nonconformists. They were the kids that society had kicked to the curb.

And yet, those three had never played Dungeons and Dragons before. But then again, only the _cool _nerds played Dungeons and Dragons.

The event that would change Princeton's view on life happened on a beautiful spring day. He and Wolf, Pigma, and Leon were sitting in a circle in the school's sandbox, playing the hottest, newest trading card game: Mages N' Monsters.

"My Drondur summons up the power of the elements and unleashes a wave of energy upon your Morgon," Pigma said triumphantly with an excited grin.

"Oh no!" Wolf exclaimed, his eyes wide with pure worry. "That took down two hundred life-force-points! My Morgon lost its magic resistance!"

The quirky quartet were so absorbed in their game, they didn't see Fox, Falco, and Slippy slip up behind them. They stood there for a moment, watching the game without saying a word, each one trying hard not to laugh. Eventually, Princeton experienced the uncomfortable sensation that he was being watched, and turned his head, coming face-to- face with Falco, who knelt down to his eye level. He was wearing that smug grin that Princeton couldn't stand.

"Whut up, freaks?" Falco sneered, slapping the trading cards out of Princeton's hands. Behind him, Fox and Slippy chortled, just like suck-up sidekicks always do. Princeton despised them both. Slippy never picked on him, but laughed when Falco did. When Princeton and Falco got into fights, Slippy ran off to hide, being the sissy-like pansy that he was. Fox never joined in the fights either, he just held Princeton while Falco pecked the poor fowl's face.

Princeton's legs reacted like pistons and he stood up so quickly he nearly lost his balance, now face-to-face with Falco. He wasn't afraid of Falco, and if it was a fight that Falco wanted, then Princeton wasn't about to deny him the opportunity.

"Beat it, Falco," Princeton warned, his beak only inches away from Falco's. Falco only laughed at the angered rooster's response.

"Beat it?" Falco scoffed, turning his head toward Fox and Slippy. "You hear that, guys? The prepubescent twerp wants me to beat it."

Falco's head snapped around to Princeton. "Maybe you need to be put in your place again?" His chest puffed out, he began strutting around Princeton in the dominant bird fashion.

"C'mon, c'mon! You wanna box, boy? Or maybe you need another face-pecking..."

His arm a sudden blur, Princeton swung his fist and Falco's sentence was cut off. After all, it's hard to talk when an enraged person's fist slams into your beak. The punch took Falco by surprise, and he staggered backward, tripping over himself and falling into the sandbox. Princeton surged forward and straddled Falco, landing another punch directly across Falco's beak. Slippy emitted a shriek similar to that of a little girl and fled the playground, fearing the wrath of the raging rooster. Leon, Pigma and Wolf stood frozen, watching the bloodshed in wide-eyed amazement.

Princeton lost all sense of control, his actions fueled by blind rage. He slugged Falco in the chops a third time, and was about to do so for a fourth, when he felt strong hands grab his shoulders. The next thing he knew, he was wrenched away from Falco. Princeton struggled to free himself from his captor, but his arms were held behind his back. He knew that Fox had grabbed him from behind, and now Falco had his chance for revenge.

Falco groaned, and slowly pushed himself up off the ground. Once he stood erect, he frowned and wiped his beak with his wing. Glancing down at his wing feathers, he gasped at the horrendous sight that met him.

"Fox... what the heck is this red stuff?" he asked, unable to take his eyes off of his wing.

"That's blood, dude," Fox said, a little confused at Falco's ignorance. Princeton tried again to struggle out of Fox's grip, but Fox held firm.

"What!?" Falco exclaimed, becoming more anxious. "Birds can bleed from their beaks? Whoa, I learn something new every day."

Falco's expression of worry now turned to that of vengeful hatred. Striding up to Princeton, he grabbed the struggling fowl by the shirt.

"You made my beak bleed, you bloody bugger," he growled angrily, his face mere inches away from Princeton's. "A good old-fashioned face-pecking ain't good enough for _you_. What you need is some _public humiliation_!"

To everybody's surprise, Falco grabbled the waistline of Princeton's sweatpants and pulled down.

The sight that kicked the faces of everybody that was watching is still talked about in Corneria Junior High to this very day.

Tightly hugging Princeton's lower area was a purple Speedo.

A heavy sinking feeling crawled through Princeton's bowels and his face burned with embarrassment. A crowd gathered around the sandbox, and the air became coagulated with their laughter. Fox was now laughing so hard he released his grip on Princeton, who tripped over his pulled-down sweatpants and sprawled down face-first into the sand. He made no attempt to pull himself up. Humiliation caused his brain to cease to function, and he suddenly wished that he was lying in quicksand, so it would swallow him up. At least in death he could escape the cruel laughter, the pointing of fingers, paws, and feathers.

Princeton wasn't going to deny it; he liked wearing Speedos. He found that boxers, briefs even, were too loose and too breezy, and he couldn't stand the cold, breezy feeling. He enjoyed the warm, secure snugness Speedos provided, and there's nothing wring with that... right?

As a result of the whole charade, Princeton was suspended for two weeks for fighting. He was suspended for another three weeks for indecent exposure. The suspensions made little difference to him. As soon as he returned to school, he was greeted with constant mockery and malicious torment. Not only was he reminded every day for wearing a Speedo, but the torture continued throughout the rest of junior high and high school. Poor Princeton was called vicious names, including "Speedo-Boy," "The Speedo Wearer," and "The Guy Whose Sexual Preference Must Be Questioned Because He Wears Speedos."

Of all of his tormentors, Falco, Fox, and Slippy were the ones who teased him worst of all. After high school, Princeton left Corneria and escaped to venom, where, for the first time, he felt at home. For the first time, he felt accepted.

_(End of flashback that ties in with the main plot, explaining in explicit detail why Princeton hates the Star Fox team so). _

_- - -_

"Wow... that sucks, yo," Midnight muttered, shaking her head. Never had she heard a more dire story.

"I remind myself of that incident every day," Princeton said, "to keep my hatred for the Star Fox team alive and strong. I've waited so long for this day, the day that Venom would take over Corneria, no, the whole Lylat System!"

Snowball stared at Princeton, her mouth hanging agape. She and Princeton stared at each other for several seconds, and finally he severed the silence.

"You wanna tell me what your problem is?"

"You... used to, like, wear Speedos?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. Can we please move on?"

A sly smile crawled across Snowball's face.

"Like, are you wearing one now?"

Princeton's heart began to speed up nervously and he squirmed uncomfortably.

"That's... frankly none of your business, and irrelevant to our current situation."

"Anything you say, Speedo-Boy," Midnight said with a wink.

"Will you both stop it?" Princeton exclaimed irritably, beginning to sweat nervously. "Now, I want you to saddle up and take our pilots to Fortuna. The planet has an extensive base of operations. Our intelligence reports that the base is lightly guarded, so they won't stand a chance against our ten thousand pilots..."

"Twenty," Midnight corrected.

"Right," Princeton replied. "So, get to the Planet, capture the base. Simple, right?"

"Yes, sir!" Midnight exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Wait, I'm like, confused," Snowflake cut in, frowning in concentration. "So do we, like, capture the base, and then go to the planet or like... I don't know..."

"No, no, Snowflake, the _base _is on the _planet_," Princeton explained, exasperated by the feline's stupidity. Midnight'll explain it on the way. So, girls, good luck, and good hunting."

"Whatever," Midnight muttered. With that, the two female felines turned and headed out the door.

Princeton watched them leave, then flopped back down into his chair with a deep sigh. Relaxing in body and mind, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Very soon now, the Lylat System will be mine... God, that sounds so cliché..."


	3. Chapter 3: Fresh Hamburger

**Star Fox: A Threat Most Fowl**

**Chapter 3: Fresh Hamburger**

All was serene on the planet of Fortuna. The birds were buzzing, the bees were chirping, and little bunnies were devouring field mice. And bopping them on the head.

At the Fortuna base, all was not so serene, for a brown cow, the colonel of Fortuna's Military Defense Corps had his eyes on the skies (hey that rhymes)! The skies were saturated with the warships of twenty thousand Venomian pilots. The ships were so numerous they blotted out the sun. A dark shadow was cast upon the Fortuna base. A black sheep ran breathlessly to the colonel.

"Sir, we have to defend ourselves! The Venomians are coming!"

"I know, Captain," the colonel said. "Spread the word to everyone in the base." The captain ran away, waving his arms frantically.

"The Venomians are coming! To arms! The Venomians are coming!"

An admiral then ran to the colonel, also out of breath.

"What should we do? There are about ten thousand ships that are going to fry us to death!"

"Twenty," the colonel corrected. "I know, Admiral. Get your team of pilots into the air and hold them off for as long as possible."

"Yeah right!" the admiral contradicted. "We'll get smashed to bytes! Then the bits of our bytes will get smashed to bits! We're evacuating!"

"Fine then, be a pansy," the brown cow sneered. "At least MY fine soldiers will stay and fight."

The big bovine turned around to see the retreating backs of his soldiers fleeing into the woods.

"Well, _I'll_ stay and fight," the colonel cow said. "_I'm_ not afraid to die."

"Of course you're not," the admiral shouted. "It's because you're a cow! You're stupid!"

The colonel blankly stared at the admiral for a few seconds.

"Moo," he said, drawing his blaster and firing at the approaching ships. A blaster bolt decisively hit a Venomian ship causing it to explode in flame. Shrapnel flew in all directions, tearing holes in several adjacent ships, causing those ships to explode as well. This caused a chain reaction which destroyed several hundred Venomian warships.

"Wow, Venomians are so easy to kill!" The admiral commented. "Well, good luck to you!"

And with that, the admiral bolted for the trees, leaving the brave bovine alone to fight this enormous adversary.

- - -

Fox McCloud and Falco were in the gym of the Great Fox, working out their muscles. After all, being a pilot required SO MUCH raw physical power.

"Besides, girls like washboard abs," Fox said, referring to Krystal, the _only_ girl with a million mile radius.

"What? Who the heck are you talking to?" Falco asked, in the middle of his reverse-hanging-lotus stretch.

"Oh, I was just explaining stuff to the readers."

Suddenly, ROB's voice sounded on the loudspeaker.

"You probably don't care, but thousands of Venomian warships are attacking Fortuna. If you do care about the safety and well-being of the Lylat system, I suggest you get down to the bridge."

"Holy French pastry!" Fox exclaimed, still doing push-ups. "_I_ care about the safety and well-being of the Lylat System! Except for Wayne, I _hate_ that guy. Come on, Falco!"

- - -

_The Universe, Alpha Quadrant, Lylat System, Great Fox, Deck 6, Section C, Bridge, Seats_

Fox and Falco came bursting in like raging rabid weasels.

"There you are, you two," Peppy said in parent-like disapproval. "Where were you two?"

"We were just attending… a gun show!" Fox said as he and Falco flexed as many muscles as they could, both striking poses.

"You guys are so moronic," Krystal said. "You should know by now that women want more from men than just bulgy muscles."

"Who said that we were working out for women anyway?" Fox asked.

"You did," Krystal replied. "Right at the beginning of the last scene, in fact."

"Oh… right."

Fox and Krystal were interrupted from their argument by general Pepper's huge face on the Great Fox's debriefing monitor.

"General Pepper here," the esteemed dog said in that proud voice that everybody hates.

"Yes, we know about it already, General Pepper," Fox said rolling his eyes.

"Eh? Know about what?" Pepper asked.

"You know, about the Venomian warships attacking Fortuna." Slippy chimed in.

"_What_?" General Pepper gasped. "There are Venomian warships attacking Fortuna? I was just going to invite you guys to dinner! This is terrible! I must contact Corneria's defense fleet immediately!"

With that, General Pepper's image on the monitor vanished, much like an ice cube in an oven.

"Well, since we are the heroes of this story, we might as well save that base." Fox said, puffing out his muscular chest.

"But Fox, you heard the general. He said the Cornerian fleet is going to…"

"NO!" Fox exclaimed dramatically. "You know how much they suck! They always lose, it always starts that way. There's trouble in Lylat, and who answers the call first? Corneria, and they always get smashed, and we have to pick up the pieces! No, my friends it is up to us now."

(Cue heroic trumpet music in the background).

- - -

"Freeze, cow!" A Venomian soldier exclaimed, his blaster ready. Behind him, hundreds of soldiers were dropping from the warships, running to the base.

"Put your hands where we can see them!" Another soldier cried out.

"No!" The colonel cow cried defiantly. With that, he shoved his hooves into his mouth, hiding them from view. He had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to take down as many Venomians as he could, but they finally overwhelmed him. If he was going down, he was going to be as difficult and uncooperative as possible.

"I said to put your hands where we can see them!" The soldier repeated.

"Nephuh!" The brown cow retorted, his mouth full of hoof.

It was quite a grim spectacle. The broken remains of shot-down warships littered the ground. Smoke swirled about, congesting the beautiful blue sky. A flaming pink, sequined, and rhinestoned Venomian fighter descended, landing mere feet away from the cowed cow. The roof hatch opened, and Snowball and Midnight climbed out.

"We, like, did it!" Snowball exclaimed excitedly.

"All their base are belong to us, yo!" Midnight agreed.

"Hey, look, it's like, a cow!" Snowball said, pointing at the brown cow, the lone defender.

"_That's_ what's been shooting at us?" Midnight demanded, striding angrily up to the cow, with Snowball right behind her. Midnight pulled her blaster from her thigh holster.

"How now, brown cow?" She demanded, and squeezed off a round into the cow.

"Moo," the cow snarled… and DIED.

Snowball started giggling.

"'How now, brown cow'… that's like, funny. And it rhymes, too."

"Yeah, I know, Honey." Midnight replied, patting Snowball on the shoulder.

"Take him away," Midnight ordered several nearby troops. "We're having hamburgers for dinner tonight!"

An explosion of cheering arose from the hundreds of Venomian soldiers.

"All right everybody," she cried, once the applause died down, "the base is belong to us now! We are victorious!"

(Cue evil death metal music here).


End file.
